


baby we've got new love

by itjustkindahappened



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Attempt at Humor, Banter, Barista Isak, Crushes, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Sana Bakkoush & Isak Valtersen Friendship, also i know canonically isak is not a tea drinker in the slightest, but i am and the day i don't project my own traits onto isak is the day i am buried six feet under, even is a hipster but the loveliest, isak is the most dramatic, my favorite tag, so u can pry tea enthusiast isak from my cold dead hands tbh, this whole thing is ridiculous i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 03:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11371731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itjustkindahappened/pseuds/itjustkindahappened
Summary: Isak is hella fucking gay and desperately single, and Eskild wants to change that. Even just has a thing about timing.Coffee shop AU with an ironic amount of tea enthusiasm and a whole lot of pining.





	baby we've got new love

**Author's Note:**

> based on that one tumblr post with that coffee shop sign. u know the one. 
> 
> look at me.., back at it again with a ridiculous skam fic,, . i can't believe i actually finished this smh it's been a side project for a solid month or so (at least from before episode 6 where julie andem crushed my tea drinker!isak headcanon and spat on my soul) but here it is woooo i'm not the happiest with it but u know what????? this ship cannot have too much silly fluff. so here u go.

“You’re grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“You were about to dump an iced latte over my head for asking about your day.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because you fucking suck, Eskild.”

“Do you know what you need?”

“Your resignation letter?”

“Dick.”

“Eskild.”

“You need dick, Isak.”

“I do not need—”

“ _Dick_.”

“Eskild I’m not even joking—”

“You need to get dicked down real good.”

Isak buries his head in his hands and sighs so deeply he runs out of air, trying with all his might to stop himself from going over all the ways he could cleanly and efficiently murder his co-worker.

See, this isn’t an Isak needs dick kind of problem. This is an Isak isn’t a morning person and it’s 9am on a Saturday kind of problem. Having a weekend job might possibly be the worst thing to ever happen to him, given that for him to be awake before noon on a Saturday during any other circumstances, his house would have to be on fire. And even then, there’d be a good chance of him just giving up and letting the flames take him.

But, well. When you happen to suddenly cut ties with your toxic parents and end up living in a shared flat where you have to pay your own rent, Isak doesn’t have much of a choice. He needs an income somehow.

Luckily, Eskild, the guy who took Isak in and offered him the room in the flat, works at a small café. A café who happened to be hiring at the exact right moment. Isak was so incredibly grateful at the time, but about two months into this whole thing? He’s kind of over it.

(Not really, because it could be a lot worse and despite hating early mornings with a passion, Isak really needs the money.)

And that’s how he finds himself cleaning tables inside of a picturesque café with his—unfortunately—flatmate and co-worker harassing him about his love life.

“Look, I’m saying this because I love you and feel very much like a father figure in your life.” Eskild drops down on a chair and crosses his legs effortlessly, watching Isak do the work. As per usual. “But you can be kind of a nightmare, Isak. I know what it’s like being stuck in the seemingly endless abyss of angsty teen hood, but having all this negative energy around me all the time is just not good for my complexion. And it’s not good for you, either. I think some romancing could really spice up your life.”

“Thank you for your input, Eskild, you know how much it means to me,” Isak replies dryly.

Eskild raises his hands in a defeated gesture.

“Just trying to help.”

So, like. Maybe Isak is a _little_ grumpy.

But it’s not like it’s unjustified. His relationship with his parents is fucked up and constantly stressing him out, he’s trying to maintain top grades in school, he’s got this stupid job—he just has a lot on his plate right now.

And maybe the thought of a boyfriend is nice. But it’s not like Isak has time to make a conscious effort to start dating with his current life situation. It’s just not likely, and Isak wishes Eskild would understand that already so they could stop having these conversations (because boy were they reoccurring. Constantly).

The topic is seemingly dropped for now, though (thank god), and Eskild gets out of the chair and disappears into the kitchen to see if he can be of more help in there. Because it’s not like Isak is out here cleaning tables all on his own, Isak thinks sourly as he keeps working with a scowl on his face. 

Eskild’s shifts ends around 12, while Isak has to work for another three hours before he’s finally free. The older man has something sly in his gaze as he blows Isak a kiss goodbye, and Isak narrow his own eyes in return, but decides to think nothing of it. He’s got three more hours before he can deal with whatever Eskild’s up to this time.

Unsurprisingly, it’s not like these three hours are kind to him, either.  

First off, the customers are being weirdly… Suggestive, all of a sudden. He could swear at least five boys within a timespan of an hour come in more to flirt with him than to order anything, which—admittedly might not sound like the biggest problem in the world, but it has Isak nothing but suspicious. Besides, this is as aforementioned not a Good Day, and Isak isn’t exactly in the right mood to flirt with cute boys right now. Especially not ones who aren’t even that cute, if he’s honest. Especially not ones who on top of that order either foamy cappuccinos or Darjeeling tea. Who the fuck actually drinks Darjeeling tea? Not the future love of Isak’s life, that’s for sure.

He’s so into his silent sulk he doesn’t even realize he’s got a new customer until there’s a faint clearing of a throat right in front of him. Isak supresses the urge to groan out loud, absolutely not in the mood to deal with anyone right now. He just wants these hours to be over, and then he wants to go home, and he wants to lie down with his duvet pulled up to his ears and he wants to lie there and watch his life wither away before him. But he just can’t have that, can he?

No, not today, he thinks sullenly. No breaks for Isak today, nope, not even a tiny three second breather—

But then he finally looks up and though he’s suddenly he’s swimming in radiant blues, his mouth goes completely dry.

The boy in front of him is deliciously tall—long limbed and lean and Isak wants to climb him like a mountain top, tread his fingers through the swoop of his blonde hair and feel the soft looking skin of his neck against his palms. And his lips. And his teeth.

He knows there’s something he’s obligated to do right now—but the stranger in front of him has the prettiest jaw and the plumpest mouth Isak’s ever seen and he can’t focus on anything else. He’s got an entrancing James Dean-ish charm about him, and Isak’s always been weak for the jean jacket aesthetic.

“Hi,” the unearthly pretty stranger finally tries with a quirk of his eyebrows, and Isak realizes with dread that he’s been quite blatantly staring.

“Hey,” he replies, and he hates how breathless he sounds. He mentally slaps himself in the face. “Um. What can I get for you?”

He pushes a nice smile onto his face for good measure, and James Dean tilts his head in contemplation.

“What would you recommend? I need it to go,” he asks at last, eyes twinkling so brightly Isak almost drifts off looking for constellations in his irises.

That is, until he realizes he’s been asked a question.

_God, snap the fuck out of it. You got this._

“Well.” He taps a finger to his chin as he eyes James Dean intently. “Do… You like Darjeeling tea?”

James Dean instantly wrinkles his nose.

“No, thanks. Gives me an icky feeling.”

Isak is pretty sure he can hear wedding bells ring somewhere in the distance.

“ _Right_?” he can’t help but exclaim. “The champagne of teas my _ass_.”

James Dean lets out a huff of laughter, joy and soft mischief pooling in the creases by his eyes, and Isak wants to reach out and touch, wants to know if that laughter feels as much as honey and rosebuds as it looks.

“So you’re a tea person, too, then?” the blue eyed boy asks, one eyebrow raised, and Isak nods fiercely.

“I’m _the_ tea person,” he proclaims. “No one knows tea better than me.”

“Well. Must be my lucky day, then.” James Dean’s rosy, chapped lips are stretched in amusement.

“You’re damn right.” Isak leans a bit forward on the counter. “I recommend the mango ice tea. It’s the best one out there.”

He’s secure in his choice, but James Dean’s amused expression prickles with sudden incredulity.

“You call yourself _the_ tea person and then proceed to recommend ice tea?”

Isak immediately stops in his tracks, narrowing his eyes.

“You need it to go. It’s warm out. What’s wrong with ice tea?”

“It’s just,” James Dean scrunches up his nose a little. “It’s not really tea, is it?”

He’s really toeing the line on ruining Isak’s already elaborate wedding plans, and the green-eyed boy shakes his head reproachfully.

“No one likes a tea hipster, friend.”

“A tea hipster?”

“ _Yeah_. Don’t laugh at me, I know your type. You drink one and _only_ one of the following, being green tea, herbal tea or plain earl grey—all organic, all loose leaf, of course—you’ve never seen a sugar cube in your entire life, _and_ you consider yourself above ice tea because it’s cold and not bitter like your deep art majoring soul. Did I miss anything?”

James Dean is evidently trying his very best to keep himself from laughter as he hums conciliatory, and Isak tries not to let his chest puff with pride too much from making sunlight seep out of the boy’s skin like that.

“You’re good,” he admits. “I’ll have the mango ice tea, please.”

Isak just grins.

“Coming right up.”

As he quickly whips together the boy’s order, Isak thinks frantically of a way to keep him here for a little longer. Their conversation has been flowing too well and Isak’s heart has been feeling too light for it to end so soon. Isak wants to keep talking to him forever, he thinks.

So as he finally places the lidded plastic cup on the counter between them, sticking a green straw under it and watching James Dean pull out his card and pay, he licks his lips and tries to sound casual as he speaks again.

“So, which one of the three is your favorite, then?” he asks, and James Dean looks up with a raised eyebrow.

“Hm?”

“Green tea, herbal tea, or earl grey?”

“Oh. Herbal, easily.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely. They sell the most amazing herbal teas at Røtter, have you tried it?”

Isak has to suppress a condescending purse of his lips, because of course this guy would be the kind of person to shop at the single most hipster-y, obscure grocery store chain in all of Oslo. To be real, he probably gets a majority of his groceries from there. He absolutely feels like the type of guy to buy their organic, locally produced, sugar-free, gluten-free, lactose-free, spiritually healing chocolate truffles and insist they taste marvellously. Isak decides they’re definitely going to have McDonald’s catering for their wedding.

“I haven’t, actually. I’m often too intimidated by the customers there. Can only stand so many tote bags and Docs in one place.”

James Dean rolls his eyes with a snort at the reply, before looking down on his hands for a second, lower lip caught suddenly timidly between his teeth, something more vulnerable over his posture.

“Well. Would you want to try it some sometime, then? With me?”

He bites the inside of his cheek and finally looks up again to watch Isak with a kind of tentative hope, and Isak is astounded by the fact that he thinks there’s even the slightest possibility that Isak would ever, in any universe at any time, go ‘no thank you, Handsome Stranger, I do not want to drink organic herbal tea with you.’

Because, see, Isak _was_ pretty adamant about the whole lying-in-bed-and-question-his-existence thing for the rest of all his days. But that was before the personification of every single wet dream he’s ever had stood in front of him asking him to hang out.

He’s not _that_ exhausted from work, he supposes. He can definitely make it happen.

“Yeah,” he answers at last, his previously small smile growing into a grin. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

James Dean beams back at him, and a shock wave of stardust shoots through Isak’s veins. Quickly, the boy reaches over to grab the small notepad and pen on the counter to scribble down a series of digits Isak will most likely learn by heart by the end of this day.

“Great! Oh, and I’m Even,” he introduces himself, before tasting the beverage Isak’s made for him. His lips look extraordinarily pink and soft wrapped around the black straw, and Isak swallows at least three times in an attempt at quenching the subtle burn in his throat.

“Isak,” he squeaks out, immediately clearing his throat and ignoring the amused quirk of Even’s lips. “But I guess you already knew that?”

A hand gesturing towards the name tag perched on his sweater, and Even nods.

“This is really good, by the way,” he compliments, raising his ice tea a little. “I concede.”

Isak nods and wiggles his eyebrows in satisfaction.

“Told you I know my shit, didn’t I?”

Even just chuckles lowly and starts backing away, sending Isak a small wave before finally turning and exiting the shop.

 

~

 

Needless to say, Isak is not really grumpy anymore after that.

As a matter of fact, he’s happily humming to himself as he whirls around cleaning the tables around the café, deeply confusing his other co-workers who are more or less accustomed to constant bitterness on his part at this point.

But not today, no. Today a long-legged, wide-eyed stranger gave Isak his number. Isak retracts anything he’s said or thought earlier this day that even has the slightest hint of negativity in it—who needs negativity when you can daydream about Even’s eyelashes, anyway? Who even has time to _consider_ negativity when Even’s eyelashes are out there being long and swooping?

Not Isak.

He’s filling out the pastry supply in the display fridge when he hears the familiar jingling of the bell again, and when he throws a quick look towards the entrance he sees Sana approaching, and he smiles.

Sana always says she comes here because it’s the only place in Oslo that makes decent coffee, but Isak knows very well that’s not the only reason she’s there. She usually comes in only when Eva is working, and Isak is very aware of the way her eyes always go a little softer and her voice a little gentler when she’s around the auburn-haired girl. It’s endlessly endearing, and though Sana scoffs every time Isak hints at knowing what’s going on, it’s evident in the way her eyes shine every time Eva hip checks Isak out of the way to take her order by the cash register that he’s right.

“Hi, Sana. Eva isn’t working today, sorry, you’re stuck with me.”

He finishes by looking up from the plate of chocolate chip cookies with a tongue-in-cheek grin, waiting for his friend to give him the initial eyeroll and biting remark.

Sana seems to do a double take when she sees Isak, though, blinking perplexed before opening her mouth to exclaim:

“ _You’re_ the hella fucking gay barista?”

And, well. He’s heard some interesting greetings from her in his time, but this is certainly a first.

Isak gives her a weird look, one eyebrow raised.

“…Um. Don’t know if that wording was completely necessary, but I guess so?”

He then turns his back to her to get Sana’s order. It’s the same thing every time she comes in—a big, plain coffee.

(The concept that there are existing people out there who take their coffee completely black is mildly terrifying to Isak, but that being said, if anyone would most definitely take their coffee black, it would be Sana.)

He hears the girl hum behind him, seemingly impressed.

“When I saw the sign outside I was so sure it’d be Eskild’s doing, but, hey. Good on you, Isak.”

Isak stops dead in his tracks. A cold sort of tingling is tentatively making its way through his veins, as if his body is preparing for possible eventual panic, and he slowly turns to face Sana again.

“What sign?” he asks, voice a little too high to be casual.

“The sign? Outside?” Sana furrows her brow. “The one I presume you wrote? That usually has today’s recommendations—oh my god, it _is_ Eskild’s doing, isn’t it?”

Realization slowly seeps onto Sana’s features as she watches her friend pale.

Isak just gives out a borderline hysterical noise, and bolts out of the café, leaving Sana’s coffee behind the desk to cool. Sana rolls her eyes and walks behind the desk to get it herself.

Meanwhile, Isak is outside, staring in horror at the small blackboard so innocently standing right by the entrance.

 

_“Today your barista is:_

  1. _Hella fucking gay._
  2. _Desperately single._



_For your drink today I recommend:_

_You give me your number.”_

 

“Oh my god,” Isak mumbles to himself, “oh my _god_.”

He’s going to kill Eskild. He’s genuinely going to wait until he’s sound asleep, sneak into his room, and he’s going to pull the trigger. This is the last straw.

As his previous happy bubble pops into a rumble of terrified screams inside his head, Isak tugs the sleeve of his knitted sweater down and rubs it on the blackboard, feeling a little bit better with every fading letter.  Pulling down his sleeve again when he considers his work done and frowning a little at his now dirty shirt, he walks inside again, trying to appear cool and composed. He’s not actually cool and composed, though. His entire encounter with Even which has so far made him feel so giddy and excited, now feels like a sinking stone landing at the bottom of his stomach.

Sana is seated at the table closest to the counter, evidently trying to hold back a smirk when she catches Isak’s gaze again.

“Isn’t Eskild just the kindest?” she muses.

“He’s a dead man,” Isak states flatly with not a single ounce of sarcasm whatsoever.

“Oh, come on.” Dimples are deepening in Sana’s cheeks now, and though Isak finds them endearing, the context of them is far too awful for him to appreciate them. “It’s a _little_ funny.”

“It’s really not, though!”

With a pained groan, Isak slouches down in the chair opposite Sana. The café is practically empty now, what with the afternoon rush being over, and he figures he can take a couple of minutes to mope about his life.

“A boy came in,” he admits lowly, forehead in his hands. “A really, _really_ cute boy came in and we talked and he asked me to drink tea with him some day and he gave me his number.”

He doesn’t lift his head to watch Sana’s reaction, but the careful scepticism is clear in her tone when she answers.

“I… Fail to see the problem with this.”

“The _problem_ ,” Isak stresses, “is that I thought it just happened to be my lucky day and I really thought I had some game and now it’s extremely clear he just came in because he thought I was _desperate_.”

At that, he finally looks up, nailing Sana with a distraught stare to emphasize his misfortune. He finds a tiny grain of comfort in the fact that Sana at least has the decency to look sorry.

“Right. That _does_ suck,” she allows, pursing her mouth and leaning forward. “Are you sure he thinks that, though? He could genuinely like you.”

“Oh, totally,” Isak gives out a melancholic laugh, “because I’m just such a delightful person to be around.”

“You’re making it really hard to be a supportive friend right now.”

“No, I’m not. You’re supposed to assure me the opposite.”

“Oh, I can’t do that. I’m not going to lie to you.”

Has Isak honestly not suffered enough? Like, throughout his life, has he not had enough of a struggle to finally start collecting some good karma?

Biting his cheek to not snap something rude at her, he closes his eyes and breathes a couple of times.

“I’m glad my genuine anxiety is a joke to you,” he says with an eyeroll, getting ready to stand up again.

“Hey. None of that.” Sana frowns, putting a hand on Isak’s to stop him from going anywhere. “Do you really like this guy?”

“ _Yes_.”

Sana nods.

“Then just text him, alright? Give it a shot. If he’s somehow treats you like a charity case, then tell him to fuck off. And if he’s only out for a shag or something, you shag him and _then_ tell him to fuck off. You’ll regret it if you don’t do anything.”

It doesn’t sound too complicated when she puts it like that, Isak thinks.

After a moment of contemplation, he sighs and even sends a tired smile Sana’s way.

“Thanks, Sana,” he says at last, and Sana smiles right back.

“Anytime.”

“Also, while on the subject of giving things a shot, Eva—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

Isak raises from the chair, hands raised in front of him.

“I’m just saying. Consider it. She likes you.”

 

~

 

Still, Isak can feel anxiety prickling his fingers and toes and tightening his ribcage for the rest of the shift, no matter how many cups of chamomile tea he sneaks into his system behind the counter.

He still feels it when he walks home, the crunching of pebbles under his feet and his slightly erratic breathing the only soundtrack he’s got to distract himself. He still feels it when he comes home and makes another three cups of tea (lavender, peppermint, ginger—none of them gives the desired effect) and then settles for spending the rest of his day locked away in his room. In an attempt of continued distraction, he puts on Brooklyn 99 on Netflix and lets it run for hours, but he still fiddles nervously with his phone the entire time as his mind continues to go a thousand different places at once.

It’s just, he hasn’t done this in a long time. Approached a boy he’s this interested in dating, he means. Or even approached a boy he’s mildly interested in hooking up with, for that matter. To be honest, there hasn’t even been a bathroom blowjob at a party for months. Isak isn’t exactly with it in the casual sex department, let alone the dating department. Especially not when the boy in question looks like cherry blossom and laughs like summer.

Isak just really needs to not come across as desperate here. He needs to be blasé and effortlessly charming. He needs to convey just how little he’s interested in Even because of that sign and how much he’s interested in Even because he thinks Even is the most mesmerizing human he’s met.

(Eskild is truly going to get the verbal ass whooping of his life when Isak sees him again for putting him in this situation in the first place.)

He should text. He should send something really casual and cool, something slightly teasing with a twinge of coyness, so Even can answer and elaborate on his offer to take Isak out and they can start dating so Isak can finally kiss him and hold his hand and, like. Blow him. And marry him.  

But the afternoon anxiety bleeds into evening sulking and evening sulking fades into 2am overthinking and Isak can’t sleep and his text to Even remains typed out in the message box, melancholically unsent.

 

 ~

 

**Eva**

_so there’s a party at adam malik’s tonight_

_??? cool_

_that’s sana’s brother’s friend_

_??? cool_

_wouldn’t it be likely for sana to be there, too?_

_do you think it’s likely that sana would want to party with her big brother?_

_:(( so you don’t think she’d go?_

_probably not no_

_:(((((((_

_where are you going with this_

_could you go?? and maybe invite her with you??_

_please isak_

_pleasepleaseplease_

_i’ll see what i can do_

_you owe me_

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ 

 

 

**Sanasol**

_you should come and party with us tonight_

_what makes you think i would want to party with you?????_

_school’s been kicking our asses lately. figured it’d be fun to relax for a bit_

_also eva said she’ll be there_

_asked me to try and bring you_

_she didn’t now leave me alone_

_she really did though_

_honestly sana when will you stop denying yourself good things???_

_eva is into you you’re into her_

_it’s time for you to grab your pride by the balls and say THAT’S ENOUGH_

_I DECIDE MY OWN FATE_

_AND IF I WANT TO DATE EVA KVIIG MOHN I AM_ GONNA

_eskild is rubbing off on you_

_…but fine. i’ll come. and i’ll bring the other girls too._

_do you feel that?_

_what_

_that’s your pride already quivering in its boots_

_bye isabell_

**Kattehookern og vennene hans**

_lads_

_we’re going out tonight_

_magnus: fuck yeah man_

_jonas: where?_

_sana’s finally getting her shit together about eva_

_and we’re all going for moral support_

_mahdi: about TIME_

_jonas: we’re in_

 

~

 

And that’s how they all end up together, Jonas, Magnus, Mahdi, Isak—and Sana, Noora, Chris, and Vilde. Already slightly buzzed on cheap beer and fresh summer air, arms around shoulders and laughter ringing in their ears, they stumble into Adam Malik’s already crowded house. A deep base line is vibrating in Isak’s chest and he thinks, yes. Yes, this is okay. He can do this.

Sana is next to him, and she’s looking positively glowing—her wine-red hijab is framing her face and beautifully defined cheekbones and her eyeliner is sharp. She’s evidently made an effort for the occasion, and it makes the corners of Isak’s mouth perk up.

Her eyes dart over to Isak’s briefly, but when she catches his smile, she narrows her eyes and turns to him fully.

“What are you so happy about?”

“Nothing,” Isak replies brightly. “Just think it’s cool you’re going to walk out of here tonight with a girlfriend.”

He earns an expected eye roll from her, but the slight deepening of her dimples gives her away.

“I’m happy one of us is confident.”

Isak chuckles and is just about to quip something teasing but lowkey earnestly supportive back at her. As he does, though, his eyes wander around the room and over a crème colored couch centered in the spacy living room and—

And.

And.

“Wait. Oh my god.” Isak stops dead in his tracks, feet suddenly glued to the floor, and he grabs Sana by her sleeve. “Sana. _Sana_ , that’s him.”

In all his breathtakingly celestial beauty, Even is perched upon the armrest, listening intently to the dark haired boys in the sofa talking loudly and elatedly. He’s holding a bottle of beer in his hand, laughing his crinkly eyed kind of laugh, and he looks absolutely drop dead gorgeous.

“What?” Sana frowns and follows Isak’s panicked gaze.

“Tall, blonde, white tee, beautiful? Right by the couch? It’s him!”

Sana’s facial expression instantly shifts from bewilderment to disbelief as she realizes who Isak is talking about, and she snaps her head back to nail Isak with wide eyes.

“ _Even’s_ your boy?”

“You _know him_?”

The question comes out as a high-pitched yelp.

“He’s friends with my brother.” Sana just keeps staring at him, mouth slowly drawing into a grin. “I can’t believe Even is your hot coffee shop boy.”

“ _I_ can’t believe you know him and haven’t introduced us earlier. I’m unfriending you.”

Sana just rolls her eyes and pats Isak lightly on the shoulder.

“Good luck with that. Now if you excuse me, I’m going to see if the only reason I came tonight is around here somewhere.”

“My pleasant and fulfilling company is right here, Sana.”

“You’re _really_ funny.”

She doesn’t move a single muscle in her face as she says it, and then turns and disappears into the mass of people. Isak looks after her until she’s fully gone, giggling silently, before turning his gaze back to watch Even. The boy wraps his lips around the opening of his beer bottle right then, cheeks hollowed and his Adam’s apple bobbing, and Isak starts sweating violently.

He pries his eyes away, shutting them tightly for a couple of seconds before turning back to his friends and downing the rest of his beer in one go.

Suddenly he’s going to need something stronger than that to endure tonight.

 

~

 

If it’s not evident already, Isak doesn’t quite have what one would call “flow”. It’s one of those things he does not possess. Never has, probably never will. He’s just kind of totally missed that particular point on the list of preferable life qualities and he’s learned to live with that fact. He’s at peace with the concept.

But when he turns around, almost tripping over his own feet in the process from how drunk he’s manged to get himself, and the first thing he sees is a familiar face belonging to a certain tall and slim angel, Isak seriously contemplates declaring war on his own existence.

Even’s fringe is lying is a perfectly effortless curl over his forehead and the left corner of his mouth is perking upwards as their eyes meet.

“Isak,” he states, raising his eyebrows teasingly as a greeting, and Isak feels a bit like vomiting.

“Even.” He gulps and takes a hesitant step forward, but his balance betrays him and he ends up stumbling over his own feet and right into Even’s chest.

He smells amazingly, earthily and sweet and a hint of cologne, and Isak shuts his eyes tight as he tries to regain control over his breathing.

“Oh _no_ ,” he snivels miserably into Even’s t-shirt.

“Oh no?” Even’s drawly voice is a little concerned when it echoes Isak’s own, and he grabs Isak’s shoulders to gently push him back in a somewhat upright position, crouching down a little to look at him properly. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Isak only meets Even’s gaze for a few seconds, the way the dim lights dance on Even’s face and highlighting the length of his eyelashes hitting him like a punch to the stomach, and he has to lower his head again.

Even doesn’t leave him or let go of him, though, just holds him there for a moment as Isak stares at his shoes.

“You didn’t call,” he notes, and Isak groans.

“I know,” he says. “I _suck_.”

They don’t say anything for a beat, Even still watching Isak and Isak watching his worn-out sneakers.

 “So you’re here with your friends?” Even breaks the silence. Isak shrugs lightly.

“Yeah. I’m actually here to set my two friends up after flirting for the longest of time. I’m a good person like that. Giving them a chance to finally be girlfriends. Isak Valtersen, the girlfriend enabler. Or like, for other people. No girls for me, thanks. Hey, you know Sana, don’t you?”

Isak knows he’s rambling but he can’t make himself stop either, too pressured to fill the tingling air between them with something other than loaded silence. To his relief, Even doesn’t look bothered about this in the slightest, merely narrowing his eyes in amusement.

“You’re really wasted, aren’t you?”

“So wasted,” Isak agrees heartily. “It’s kind of nice, though. I’ve been really stressed the past few days but I can’t remember why now. Your eyes are really blue.”

A melodic, small snicker slips out of Even, and Isak can’t do anything but stare at him in wonder. Why hasn’t he called? Why hasn’t he even texted? How can he deliberately have deprived himself of Even’s presence like this?

“Are you okay? Do you want to sit down?” Even asks, and his hands on Isak’s shoulders are so endlessly soft, but Isak feels like they’re keeping him grounded.

Isak ponders for a moment, and then shakes his head slowly.

“I think I want to go home.”

He’s only really saying it in the hopes that Even will offer to come with him. Now that he has Even this up close again, he wants nothing more than have him there for the rest of the night, away from the loud music and masses of people.

Even nods.

“Did you come here with anyone? Sana?” he asks, and Isak smiles dreamily.

“Yeah,” he nods, “I came here with Jonas and Magnus and Mahdi. And Sana and her friends. But we shouldn’t disturb her because she’s the one getting a girlfriend right now.” He stops and frowns in thought. “She better be.”

“Right.” Even nods, and his eyes are gleaming with delight. “Do you live far from here?”

“No. ‘S just over at Deichmans gate.”

“Okay. I’m going to walk you there. Is that alright?”

 _Score_.

“You going to take me home?” Isak grins.

Even’s reciprocating smile is warm and Isak wants to feel his lips under his fingers. And on his mouth.

“I am.”

“Are we going to drink herbal tea together?”

“No. I’m reserving that for when you’re sober.”

“Ah.” Isak pouts. “You’re no fun.”

(He’s lying. He’s pretty sure Even’s the most fun person in the world.)

Regardless, Even keeps his promise. He slips his hand around Isak’s waist and holds it there as they leave the house and start walking down the empty streets only lit up by dim street lamps and moonlight slightly dulled from the clouds. He doesn’t let go for even a second. Not when Isak almost falls on his ass as he trips over a dent in the sidewalk. Not even when Isak stops to hunch over and vomit right in front of their feet, which—Isak has enough conscience left to feel a bit ashamed about that one. He’s rambling on about everything and nothing the whole way home to not let silence settle and give him a chance to really analyse and overthink the situation, and Even just lets him, nodding along and contributing with helpful comments here and there.

Overall, Even is just as lovely—if not lovelier—this time around, and Isak is so, so gone. He really hopes he’ll stay the night. The idea of Even in Isak’s bed sends warm shivers throughout his arms and legs, and he leans into Even’s firm body a little more.

By some kind of miracle, Eskild isn’t home when they finally arrive at the apartment and stumble gawkily into the hallway and on to Isak’s room.

Even closes the door behind them as Isak drops down on his bed, immediately kicking off his shoes and stripping save for his underwear and t-shirt, and spreading his limbs out to take up as much of the mattress as possible. The softness of his pillow against the back of his head feels like a soothing embrace, and he sighs contently.

After a couple of seconds he remembers who else is in the room with him, and he scoots over to the side and locks eyes with Even in a clear invitation for the taller boy to lie down with him. To his delight, Even complies with a small smile, and the whole visual of him in Isak’s bed, sunken down against the mattress and turning his head to eye Isak, has something hot stirring in Isak’s abdomen.

“I feel like we should fuck,” he says.

It certainly breaks the tender atmosphere they had going on, and Even sputters, taking a while before being able to provide some sort of answer.

“Mhm?”

Isak nods confidently, sitting up.

“You’re in my bed. I’m in my bed. It’s just a thing that should happen right now, I think.”

He doesn’t miss the flash of darkness in Even’s eyes as the boy’s gaze flicks down his body for a tiny second, before he breaks into a fit of low chuckles.

“We’re not going to fuck, Isak. You’re drunk and you’re tired.”

“So make me not tired.”

“Isak.”

Isak flings a leg over Even’s waist in an attempt at straddling him, but his limbs are unfortunately way too heavy to take on such a task right now, and while mentally cussing out his body for betraying him this way, he just ends up lying lifelessly draped across Even’s body.

“Ah,” he says, half of his face squished against Even’s chest. “I didn’t calculate this very well.”

He can feel the vibrations from Even’s laughter and the steady beat of his heart, and Isak really hopes Even isn’t going to make him move because he’d quite like to stay like this forever.

“I think we should sleep.”

Isak frowns, shaking his head as well as he can given his position.

“No. Because you’ll be gone when I wake up. And if I fall asleep now you’ll be gone even sooner, and that is not okay. It’s not alright with me.”

Even starts shuffling around a bit, and at first Isak thinks it’s to get up and leave him there alone to which he frowns deeply and makes a point of making himself as heavy as possible in a type of silent protest, but soon he feels the soft fabric of his duvet on his back. His heart begins to flutter instead.

“I tell you what,” Even hums. “How about sticking to cuddling tonight, yeah? I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll even make breakfast.”

“You’ll make me breakfast?”

Even nods. “I make a mean scrambled eggs.”

Isak likes the sound of that—loves it, even, and he lets a droopy smile tug tiredly on his lips.

“That’s so domestic. I like that.”

The last thing he feels before sleep finally colors his thoughts in a hazy purple, is Even’s arms sneaking up to settle around him.

 

~

 

Isak wakes up the next morning with the worst headache he’s ever had in his life.

The ceiling above him seems to quiver with every violent pound against his forehead, and he shuts his eyes as quickly as he opened them, groaning loudly. He hates alcohol. Detests it. He’s never drinking again in his life.

The sun is poking through the curtains and it’s making Isak’s eyes throb, so he heavily shuffles to his other side, settling for staring blankly towards his drawer until his brain is ready to deal with being alive.

Only, there is a tall person with a green tea cup in his hands, casually leaning against the doorframe watching him, and Isak yelps and immediately pulls his duvet up to cover all of his body.

“Good morning,” Even greets him with a cheery grin and Isak’s breath hitches.

“You’re in my apartment,” he states dumbly.

“I am,” Even confirms with a nod, lips only stretching wider.

Isak gives out an agonized cry and pulls his duvet up over his face to deal with this revelation. At any other moment he’d be ecstatic over having the boy of his dreams in his apartment, in his room, but this particular morning he’s grumpy and he feels like dying and most likely looks like he’s dying, too, and Even seeing him like this is, well—quite mortifying.

But Even doesn’t seem to be too fazed by it, because Isak can hear the soft thump of his feet against the wooden floor approaching.

“I made you tea.”

He sits down on the side of Isak’s bed and carefully puts the cup on the nightstand next to them. Isak pulls away his covers to right above his nose, tired and narrowed eyes peeking out.

“What kind?”

“Ginger and lemon.”

Isak’s got to hand it to him—he’s good.

Slowly, he emerges from under the duvet and sits up against the wall his bed is pushed up against, grimacing when the pain keeps pressing behind his eyes in all the worst ways, and he accepts the cup when Even hands it over to him. He blows on it lightly before taking a small sip, and the warmth blooming in his mouth and down his throat feels therapeutic.

“Thank you,” he sighs earnestly and gives Even a small smile.

Even reciprocates it immediately, but doesn’t say anything else. Isak takes another gulp, watching him tentatively. There’s one pressing question he feels like he needs to ask at a time like this—when Isak wakes up with a very hazy, vague recollection of last night and Even is in his bedroom.

“We didn’t—did we?”

Even just snickers, and his face is way too cheery and possibly a bit too fond to be looking at Isak in this state.

“No. I just made sure you got home alright.”

“Oh.” Isak sinks back against the wall, air slowly seeping out of his nose in relief. “That’s so nice. You’re so nice.”

He doesn’t miss the way Even’s grin widens even more, his eyes crinkling prettily.

“You did try, though,” he enlightens Isak.

Isak groans woefully and stares up at the ceiling. Just when he thinks his self-loathing has peaked, it always manages to surprise him.

“I’m really sorry. That must’ve probably been so embarrassing—like, for me. Embarrassing for me. And super uncomfortable for you. Last night wasn’t exactly… My brightest moment.”

He expects some kind of pitying, but Even just shakes his head with a huff of silent laughter.

“It’s okay,” he assures. “You’re too cute to be an inconvenience.”

It’s spoken with such ease Even might as well could’ve been talking about the weather—like it’s a known fact, the simplest statement. A rosy hotness is immediately rising from Isak’s neck to his ears, and he turns his head swiftly to hide it from the boy next to him.

“Anyway,” Even continues effortlessly, as if he hadn’t just made Isak’s heart tremble, “is there a chance that I could borrow your shower? I promise to be really quick.”

“Um.” Isak tries desperately to not let the concept of Even in a shower get to him as he fumbles to regain his ability to speak. “Sure. First door to the right.”

Even just grins and bops Isak’s nose lightly with his finger before standing up.

“Thanks!” he calls, and he’s out of there.

Isak spends several minutes still in bed, trying his uttermost to make sense of what the fuck just happened.

Fact: Even is in his apartment.

Fact: Even stayed the night.

Fact: Even keeps complimenting and flirting with him.

Fact: Isak has never wanted to date the fuck out of someone more.

Fact: They’re still only here because of Eskild’s fucking sign.

To conclude, Isak needs more tea.

Gradually, to not trigger his headache too much, he gets out from under the warm, comfortable covers and stands up, looking around for whatever clean-ish t-shirt and pair of sweatpants he can find on the floor (his room is so messy. Even’s had to spend a good 12 hours in Isak’s messy room. The embarrassment factors will never cease to increase this morning.) His door is slightly ajar, and he shoots it all the way up and drags his feet behind him the insufferably long way to the kitchen.

To make matters worse, Eskild is already in there, newspaper spread out in front of him as he does not read a single sentence of it, focusing all his attention on his phone.

“Good morning,” he offers merrily from his seat at the kitchen table when he notices Isak entering the room.

He receives only a huff back, as Isak sits down opposite him with his teacup in hand, body still heavy with tiredness and mind still a bit hazy from the boy currently borrowing their shower.

(Isak will still not think about Even showering. He will not. He will not. He will _not_.)

He brings the cup to his lips to take another sip of the by now slowly cooling beverage, but the small sharp taste of ginger and lemon is pleasant to his throat still. A pair of eyes is evidently watching him across the table, and Isak makes a point out of not meeting them. He’s still angry with Eskild,has been giving him the silent treatment ever since that cursed day, and he’ll hold this grudge for as long as he damn pleases.

“So,” Eskild starts when he doesn’t get a reaction out of the younger boy. “ _Please_ tell me you slept with the gorgeous man I found scanning through our cupboards earlier this morning.”

Something about that statement just does it for Isak, a red and ugly heat threatening to spill all week now rapidly spreading in his chest and suddenly he can’t stand the sight of his roommate.

Essentially, Eskild put Isak in this damn mess to begin with. It’s Eskild’s fault Isak can’t enjoy Even’s presence here fully, it’s his fault Isak has to question Even’s intentions, it’s his fault the anxiety in Isak’s chest can’t go away even when Even smiles so beautifully Isak think his heart is going to burst out of his ribcage. It’s _his fault_.

“No, I didn’t,” he replies icily. “And it’s all thanks to you.”

“Um… What?” The puzzlement on Eskild’s face makes Isak’s fingers itch.

“Today your barista is _hella fucking gay_? Hella _fucking_ gay and _desperately single_ , Eskild?”

Eskild flinches away a little in his chair, frown creasing his forehead slowly as he’s obviously taken aback by Isak’s sudden anger.

“Wait, so you’re telling me he came in because of that sign?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he came in because of that sign.”

“My sign?”

“Your sign.”

Eskild’s never looked more baffled in his life, and there’s an offended exasperation in his voice when he speaks again.

“…I hooked you up with the textbook definition of beauty and you’re _angry_ with me?”

See, this is what’s so infuriatingly frustrating about Eskild. He has no shame what so ever, no filter, no sense of privacy, and for someone like Isak who’s admittedly a pretty secluded kind of guy—it just clashes. Isak can spend endless hours dwelling on embarrassment and mistakes, things he should’ve said and things he shouldn’t have done, and when Eskild barges in completely insensible to Isak’s feelings at all in his unabashed rush to do whatever he considers a favor, it just. It doesn’t work, and god, Isak loves Eskild deep, deep down, but he’s tried to explain this to him so many times and Eskild just doesn’t _get it_.

“No, Eskild,” he says, trying his uttermost to not yell. “You went behind my back, you publicly humiliated me, and now I don’t know whether Even thinks I’m interested in him just because I’m desperate or if he’s only here because he thinks I’m _easy_.”

There’s a loaded silence for a few seconds, Eskild letting this sink in under an honestly award-winning kind of death glare from Isak. If looks could kill Eskild would be six feet under in a microsecond, and Isak takes comfort in that concept.

“Right,” Eskild finally says slowly. “So I might see your point. But since this is obviously such an issue for you… Why don’t you just… Talk to him? About it?”

“ _Because_ ,” Isak groans borderline frantically, “the chances of me humiliating myself even more than I already have in a conversation like that are pretty high!”

“Isak,” Eskild shakes his head. “This guy left a party early to put your hammered ass to sleep, he stayed the night without having sex with you, _and_ he seems to have no plans to leave yet. Drunk you might be kind of cute in a chaotic kind of way but it’s not _that_ bloody endearing. I think him being into you for more than a shag is a pretty safe bet. So stop being so scared of the boy you’re dating.”

Eskild raises an eyebrow pointedly to finish off and Isak is so ungrateful for fate ever throwing him in his direction.

“I’m _not_ dating Even!”

“Why? Because you’re not desperate?”

“ _Yeah_!”

He’s about to break into another rant, but he doesn’t get that far because that’s all he manages to say before he’s interrupted by a small and sudden;

“Oh.”

The uttering behind him makes Isak’s eyes blow wide.

He turns on his heel in a microsecond to see Even stand in the doorway in all his tall glory, but his spine is way to stiffened and hurt is etched into his features.

Isak gapes, his mind starting to grasp for the right word, but before he has the chance to explain, Even runs a hand through his hair and starts backing slowly.

“Right,” he says. “I’m going to… I was just leaving, anyway, so.”

And he’s out of there.

It’s completely quiet in the kitchen for several seconds, both remaining boys trying to comprehend the disastrous moment that just occurred. Isak’s hands are trembling and his chest is way too tight, his breathing picking up its pace.

He does not get to fuck this up. Even is the first thing he’s been excited about for months, and he can’t fuck this up that quickly.

“Well,” Eskild supplies at last. “That was like watching a car crash.”

“Fuck,” is what Isak forces out, so shaken he can’t even dignify Eskild with a glare for his comment. “That came out really wrong, didn’t it?”

Eskild watches him for a beat, eyes narrowed, but Isak can’t stop staring at the doorway where Even stood just seconds ago.

“Oh my god, Isak, just fucking _go_.”

The older boy’s urging snaps Isak out of his panicked freeze, and he shakes his head to get himself together.

“Go. Yes.” He’s already sprinting towards the hallway, shoving his feet into the first pair of slippers he sees. He’s pretty sure they’re Eskild’s, because they’re a tad too big. “I’ll be right back.”

“Good luck!” Eskild calls out, but Isak is already out of there.

 

~

 

Even isn’t so far away that he’s out of sight when Isak finally reaches the sunny concrete outside, but he’s far enough away for Isak to have to make a run for it. Which—really isn’t ideal. The slippers on his feet keep wanting to come off and he’s going to have to _speak_ after this, and his physique isn’t exactly on top. Isak isn’t the keenest on choking out his words in-between jagged breaths right now.

“Even,” he calls out when he’s close enough. “ _Even_.”

He knows full well that Even can hear him perfectly fine, but the taller boy barely slows down. It’s embarrassing how Isak’s lungs already feel like they’re concaving, but he thinks maybe that sensation doesn’t entirely come from his running and more than partly from the idea of Even leaving him thinking that Isak had led him on this entire time.

Also, Even has long legs, which Isak thought could never be a bad thing, but as it turns out, his lengthy strides are not at all compatible with Isak’s terrible stamina.

“Jesus fuck, Even, just _stop walking_.”

Surprisingly, it does the trick, and Even’s figure freezes, followed by him turning around to face Isak. His face his guarded and Isak wants to cry.

They just stand there for a moment, Isak not having thought about this beyond the point of stopping Even from leaving. He spends the first couple of seconds catching his breath, but his thoughts are still screeching hysterically at him to fucking say _something, anything, everything. Just make him stay._

Just make him _stay_.

But alas, Isak’s brain is still going into overdrive, thoughts whirling too quickly and running and crashing and denting his confidence until he’s almost lost again, and instead it’s Even who breaks the silence.

“You could’ve just, like, told me,” he says quietly, shoulders slumping in a way that makes Isak’s veins clench. “If you weren’t interested.”

“But I _am_ , I wasn’t—” Isak pushes a stubborn curl away from his forehead, looking at Even pleadingly. “You didn’t hear the whole story.”

Even just barely supresses an eyeroll, and it’s a harsh look that Isak doesn’t want to ever see directed at him again in his life.

“I don’t know how much of a story there can possibly be behind ‘I’m not dating Even because I’m not desperate’.”

“But that’s not—” Isak pauses and breathes deeply. They’re not going to fight. Isak is not going to fight. He’s not going to get riled up. He’s not going to panic. He’s not going to get wrapped up in his own words and thoughts. Not this time. “That’s not what I _meant_.”

Even nods with an incredulous laugh and raises his eyebrows.

“You sounded pretty resolute.”

Isak grimaces and remains quiet for a few seconds, gradually moving closer towards Even’s hunched figure and hoping to god that the taller boy won’t decide that this just isn’t worth it and leave him there.

“I didn’t write those things on the blackboard,” he starts, trying desperately not to stumble over his words in his eagerness to set the record straight. “My co-worker—and roommate, Eskild, you met him—he did it without my knowledge. So when you came into the shop I had no idea that that sign was why, and I didn’t find that out until about an hour later. And then it kind of—well. I thought that you thought I’d be interested just because I was desperate. And that’s not true. I was interested because I like you.”

Isak stops and dares throw a quick look at Even. The iciness in those blue eyes is slightly less pointy by now, and he looks more confounded than hurt. That’s an improvement. Isak can deal with confounded.

“So, the conversation I had with Eskild just now was me yelling at him because he’d put me in such an uncertain position,” he concludes. “And _that’s_ why I said what I said. I didn’t know whether you approached me because you saw me as some kind of charity case or—or something. And I’m not the best with thinking before talking, especially not when I’m upset, so… So it just came out really shittily. I also didn’t know you’d end up having the worst timing in the entire world. But. Bottom line is, I really like you and I get stupid when I have to deal with my emotions. And I'm really sorry.”

They’re standing closely together now, Isak not having stopped moving forward since he started talking, but Even hasn’t told him to stop, either. He can just barely make out the different shades of skies in his eyes. They’re not cold anymore, and the pressure on Isak’s ribcage slowly loosens up.

“I didn’t think of you as a charity case,” Even mumbles. Isak can feel his breath faintly on his lips, and he exhales a tad shakily.

“No?” he just asks weakly.

There’s a small tug in the left corner of Even’s mouth, and it has Isak’s stomach untightening in a fit of tickles. The taller boy shakes his head.

“By your logic, wouldn’t I appear even more desperate than you? For still taking the bait?”

Isak blinks. That’s—he hadn’t really gotten that far in his train of thought. Even’s presence had dazed him to the point where there wasn’t a way in hell Isak could ever imagine him having standards so low as to be _truly_ into someone who’s only in it because they’re deprived of general human contact. Even deserves someone who loves him and cherishes him and wants to give him the whole world. Deserves more than Isak, if he’s fully honest, who snaps at anyone and anything before 11am and never does his laundry and whose hands shake and mind races often enough for it to become obnoxious.

But Even isn’t looking at him like he’s obnoxious, is the thing. He’s always looked at him like he thinks Isak is amazing. Like Isak is capable of all the things Even deserves, like Isak deserves them for himself just as much, like Isak shines, like he’s something wondrous.

It has his head fuzzy and his thoughts tinted in silver and bright pink.

“Um.” Isak doesn’t really know how to reply. “I, uh. I don’t know. I’m trying to work on my objective thinking.”

It earns him a soft huff and a faint eye roll, and Even kicks away a few pebbles by his feet before making eye contact with him again. There’s a new kind of sunlight playing in his irises now, and Isak can breathe again. His hands aren't trembling. His heart is unclenched.

“Objectively…" Even starts, dragging out the vowels a bit, and his voice is so low it sends a wave of heat through Isak's limbs. "Would you deem it okay for me to kiss you now?”

Isak’s breath hitches, and if it takes an enormous amount of self-control not to throw himself at Even and lock their lips until he passes out from oxygen deprivation, then that’s nobody else’s business but Isak’s own. He swallows one, two, three times, but his voice still cracks when he breathes out his reply.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.”

Even’s giggle is like a soft wind chime on a summer evening.

And it’s like an out of body experience, really, having Even bring his hands up to cup Isak’s face in such a tender way, feeling the warmth from his fingers bloom brightly on his skin and being able to see every crease in his raspberry red lower lip. Wondering how they’d feel against the tip of his tongue, anticipating the answer. Bringing his own hands up to tangle in Even’s infinitely soft hair, lining their bodies up, pulling him in.

Even tastes like the moon and black tea and Isak holds on.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from new love by chase coy.
> 
> comments and kudos make my heart warm and fuzzy and sososo happy and if u wanna talk to me u can find me @tequiladimples on tumblr xx


End file.
